


Some Candy Talking

by rabidchild67



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drunken Vulcan, Drunkenness, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Schmoop, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gives Spock a box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day. Spock eats them all. Hilarity ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Candy Talking

**Author's Note:**

> My K/S Valentine entry for [ this prompt ](http://ksvalentine.livejournal.com/37187.html?thread=159555#t159555) from Raja815. 
> 
> Title is a song by The Jesus and Mary Chain.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Jim said as soon as Spock opened his eyes. Jim knelt on the edge of Spock’s bed, clad in nothing but pajama bottoms, proudly holding out a brightly colored object with both hands.

“You purchased me an ornamented, roseate, heart-shaped…” Spock ran out of descriptors as he turned the velvet-covered, artificial flower-festooned object over in his hands.

“…box of candy,” Jim finished for him helpfully.

“Oh, there are components on the inside?” Spock said – he’d assumed the thing itself was the gift, and did not want to hurt Jim’s feelings by misunderstanding its purpose. Despite nearly two years on the Enterprise and the years he’d spent at the Academy, certain human practices were still a mystery.

“Yes. It’s a traditional gift for the holiday, and since it’s our first one together, I thought I’d go all out.”

Spock untied the wide satin ribbon that apparently bound the item in question and folded it neatly, laying it beside himself on the bed. 

“Lift it,” Jim prompted, face eager as he mimed the action in question. 

Spock did as bidden; inside, beneath a protective layer of corrugated, silicone-treated paper, an assortment of small objects of varying shapes were arranged, each one nestled within a small, paper, cup-like receptacle. To Spock’s eye, the overall distribution of the items was quite symmetrical, and he attempted to discern the algorithm behind it, tracing a finger lightly over the channels between the objects. 

Jim, for his part, was fairly vibrating with anticipation of Spock’s reaction. Spock looked up, unsure what that reaction should be. “These objects are pleasingly arranged,” he noted. 

“Uh-huh…” Jim said expectantly.

“What… what is their purpose?”

Jim blinked at him. “You eat them. They’re chocolates.”

“I see. I have never received such a gift.”

“You haven’t?” Jim seemed pleased to have been the first. 

“On Vulcan, sweets were regarded as an illogical indulgences, providing neither sustenance nor nutritional supplementation.”

“You never had candy as a kid?” Jim’s eyes were wide and his expression one of sympathy.

“I did not.”

“Well, now I’m even more glad I got these for you – you gonna try one?”

“Before I have breakfasted? I do not think that is wise.”

“Spock, it’s a special occasion – live a little.”

“Very well.” Spock regarded the assortment of shapes before him. Some of them were a medium brown color, others darker than that. One or two were covered in a type of colored foil – he presumed it was aluminum. Some were square, others oblong, still others round. Most interesting about them was that none were exactly the same, with varying swirls and patterns in the chocolate medium itself. He surmised these patterns were an indication as to their contents, but he had no empirical proof of that. Sensing Jim’s impatience to watch him sample the chocolates, he chose the one at the top, on the left.

The chocolate was one of the medium brown ones, approximately three centimeters square with a single, proportionately broad swirl spanning it diagonally. He held it before him and looked at it; it gleamed slightly, the chocolate itself smooth yet porous-seeming, yielding to soft pressure from a fingernail. He sniffed it; the aroma was light but warm and not at all unpleasant. 

“Oh fer chrissakes, take a bite already!” Jim exclaimed, and Spock placed it in his mouth, biting half of it off tentatively. 

The material inside was soft yet chewy, and when he pulled it away from his mouth, it stretched somewhat, a bit of it adhering to his bottom lip. He chewed experimentally while staring at the remaining piece in his hand. The interior of the chocolate was itself a golden brown and the flavor – the flavor of it was sublime. As the contents of the chocolate melted against his tongue, a buttery sweetness asserted itself as a subtle undertone to the warm smoothness of the chocolate coating. Spock’s eyes widened as the concoction adhered itself to his teeth, his hard palate. It took some maneuvering, but despite its density, he was soon able to swallow. The residue that remained behind left a pleasant aftertaste, and Spock popped the rest of it into his mouth, and frowned in disappointment when it was gone. 

“That was…” he began to say, but had no words for it, quite.

“A caramel,” Jim explained, his smile lighting up his entire countenance. “My personal favorite – you’re lucky you found one right off the bat. Have another.”

“I shouldn’t,” Spock protested even as he took up the next chocolate in line. This was one of the darker varieties, round and slightly cylindrical, with almost no embellishment on top. He bit into it, anticipation heightening his enthusiasm, and nearly spit the thing out into his hand. “Oh, this is unpleasant in the extreme, Jim.” He held the rest of it out to his lover even as he strove to swallow what remained in his mouth nearly whole. It was thick and stiff, gelatinous, with a not-unpleasant fruity tang that was nevertheless negated by its thoroughly unpleasant texture.

“Blech - raspberry jelly. Sorry about that, babe,” Jim said apologetically and got up to toss the offending chocolate into the recycler. When he returned to the bed, he brought back a glass of water that Spock gratefully drank half of, washing the offending material away. “Well, that’s the great thing about a box of chocolates – you never know what you’re in for until you take a bite,” Jim laughed and kissed Spock before leaving the bed again and heading for the shower. “Duty calls – I’m due on the bridge in thirty minutes. But since you are not, I’ll see you at dinner?”

Spock nodded. “Yes, I shall meet you promptly at 19:00 hours as you requested. May I ask what I can expect?”

“You may not – it’s all part of your Valentine’s Day surprise,” Jim answered with a crooked smile and left Spock’s quarters through their shared bathroom.

Spock rose and donned a robe, allowing Jim first access to their bathroom so that he might shower in time for his shift on the bridge. He sat at his desk and checked his messages, read through a few reports from his subordinates, then showered and contemplated a visit to the officers’ mess for breakfast. As he got dressed and went to make his bed, his fingertips lingered over the edge of the box of chocolates as he removed them from where they lay, open and nearly forgotten.

Though it was illogical – he’d already cleaned his teeth, and it had been over an hour – Spock licked his bottom lip at the memory of the bit of caramel that had fallen there earlier. It had been so rich, so unctuous in his mouth, that he felt a near-erotic thrill at the memory. He wondered if this was why humans enjoyed sweets so much. 

Deciding there must be studies on the subject, and that he would research them later, he placed the box on his desk and then made his bed, determined to head down to the science labs to check on a number of ongoing experiments, when he glimpsed the still-open box and moved to close it. His eye was caught by the asymmetry of the space left by the two pieces he’d already enjoyed. Reaching for the third piece in line left a more-aesthetically-pleasing void in the box, after all. 

Not wanting a repeat of his last experience – the “jelly” had been truly unpleasant – he broke the chocolate open, peering inside and sniffing at its contents. This was something he was familiar with, he thought – he’d of course tasted mint before in savory preparations – and so he popped the entire confection into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. The filling, a white, creamy substance, was almost cool on his tongue, and he found himself regretting the all too brief experience after he swallowed it. Without thinking, he took the next chocolate in line and regarded it carefully. 

This one was an off shape when compared to the others – oblong and rectangular, puffed out in the center, not unlike a pillow. He squeezed it between thumb and forefinger and was distressed to see it nearly disintegrate; he caught the remnants with his right hand and raised an eyebrow as the aroma wafted to his nose. “Peanuts?” he said aloud, intrigued. He’d also encountered them in the past, usually deployed as “bar snacks,” and liked them very much. He raised the ruined confection to his mouth and tasted it; the peanuts were disbursed evenly amidst a crispy, sugary substance that immediately dissolved on his tongue, leaving the flavor and texture of the nuts behind. Spock raised an eyebrow as his eye was caught by a second, identical chocolate inhabiting the same paper cup. He put it into his mouth and bit into it; the same crunchy interior captivated him, but this time he was struck by a saltiness that contrasted well with the sweetness, and closed his eyes to savor the experience.

“Truly fascinating,” he breathed, taking the box in both hands and sitting down at his desk. He contemplated his next option. The next chocolate in line, according to his thus-far orderly approach to consuming them, was an uninteresting bit of a blob, really, amorphous in shape and not at all as refined a design as the others he’d sampled. However, in the middle of the tray was nestled a chocolate wrapped in foil tinted an enticingly dark red color - almost the same shade as the American Beauty roses his mother had so painstakingly grown in her garden when he was a child – and he found his fingers drawn to it. 

Picking it up, he unwrapped it, taking care to maintain the integrity of the small piece of foil, which he smoothed out and placed on the desk beside the box. He regarded the sweet, an odd, elongated half globe with a round indentation at its apex, and brought it to his mouth. Taking a bite, he was surprised by the fact it had a liquid center, his lips slurping slightly to contain it, and finally gave that up and pushed the entire thing into his mouth. He chewed and was surprised to discover a cherry had been nestled inside. 

“Oh,” he said aloud. Closing his eyes as he swallowed the sweet liquor from within the chocolate even as he savored the flavor of the fruit mixed with its dark, chocolaty coating, he was surprised when a low-pitched moan escaped from his throat.

Opening his eyes, Spock immediately searched for another of these cherries and was disappointed to see there had only been the one. Shrugging, he went back to the shapeless blob of chocolate he’d passed over earlier and found that it had been packed full of roasted nuts – if he had to guess, he’d say they were almonds – and a type of dried fruit. It was tasty if unremarkable. The next chocolate was filled with a bland crème, similar to the peppermint one before, but with no noticeably piquant flavoring. The next one, shaped like a rounded brick, was filled with a hazelnut-infused, softer-textured chocolate he found nearly as captivating as the caramel and the cherry. 

At this point, Spock was surprised to notice that he had consumed half of the chocolates in the box. He blinked, amazed at this self-indulgence. Mentally chiding himself, he picked up the box’s lid and placed it over the top, letting his fingertips linger on it. The material that comprised the lid was strangely alluring, and he found pleasure in petting it. After several seconds, he realized the illogic behind such a repetitive movement and stopped, standing and straightening his uniform shirt, intending to head down to the Science Labs as he’d planned.

Or not. 

Was it really so important that he obsessively monitor the experiments in process? The men and women under his command were leaders in their fields, surely they could carry on without his input, and would notify him if anything important were to happen?

Spock’s eyes fell on the box of chocolates, and he licked his lips again. The lingering taste of chocolate on his tongue was most pleasant. 

The next sweet he chose had a densely chocolate filling in it that was soft and yielding to his tongue. Having only bitten off half of it, he finished it by methodically licking the remaining filling out of its harder-chocolate shell with the tip of his tongue. 

“Fascinating,” he said aloud as he noticed a tingling in the tip of his tongue when he’d finished it. He also noticed some tingling at the tip of his nose, of his ears, and of his fingers and toes. All of his tips appeared to be tingling. He glanced down at his crotch and concentrated – no, the tip of his penis was not tingling. He frowned, disappointed. Then thought that this was a fact Jim would find very interesting.

He sat down at his desk again and depressed the button on his desk for the ship-board communications system. “Spock to Captain Kirk.”

“Yes, Commander?” 

“These chocolates you have supplied are very intriguing.”

“Oh?”

Spock blinked. Where had this conversation been going? “I thought you would want to know that.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Jim’s voice rose at the end of his sentence, as if what Spock had said was strange to him.

“You’re welcome? Captain?” Spock answered, cutting off the communication. “Heh,” he added. “Heh-heh-heh.”

He was laughing. It was illogical. He pressed his lips together to desist and only managed to be distracted by the tingling in his lips. “Fascinating,” he repeated, reaching up with his fingers to feel his lips. The physical sensation of his tingling fingers pressed against his tingling lips was all very strange to him, and he pondered it as he consumed two more chocolates, the first another uninteresting confection with pink crème that smelled vaguely of strawberries, the second another caramel, this one dotted with a soft kind of nut Spock was unfamiliar with. 

“Caramel,” he moaned as he realized what he had in his mouth. “Soooo tooooothsome.” He sighed with what he could only label contentment and closed his eyes, savoring the richness of the confection on this tongue. 

“My other self should know of this,” Spock decided suddenly, and put in for a subspace call to New Vulcan. Unfortunately, the elder Spock was not at home, so Spock was forced to leave him a message. 

“Hello, me. It is I. Spock. The younger. Did you know that today is the feast day of Earth’s Saint Valentine? This is apparently an important holiday, though I am unsure why. It has something to do with young lovers. And the exchange of gifts. I like gifts, I find. Do you?” 

Spock’s eyes drifted over to the box of chocolates in front of him. He picked up another and put the entire thing in his mouth, then rested his chin on his hand. “I like chocolates too, apparently," he added as he chewed. "But not the jellies, excuse me,” Spock added, displeased to have encountered another one. He rose and stumbled over to the recycler to spit it inside the bin. “Gah!” he exclaimed and, frowning, returned to his desk with the intention of finding another chocolate to eliminate the taste of the accursed jelly from his mouth. It appeared to be a chocolate covered almond, which he nibbled contentedly.

“Where was I?” Spock cast about his desk and spotted the open channel, wondering how it might have happened. Shutting it down, he had a thought. 

“I haven’t spoken to my old friend Admiral Pike in some months,” he said, and opened another channel.

“Commander, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Chris said when the connection had been made.

“It has been some time since we spoke.”

“Yes, it has.”

“How are you?”

Pike raised his eyebrows in surprise and opened his mouth to speak, but seemed nonplussed. “I….. am well?”

“Is it hard? Being disabled? Sir?”

“I won’t say it’s been easy, but Spock, was there an official reason for this call? I was in a meeting with my aide…”

“I am really very fond of you, sir.”

“Thank you?”

“You have always been a valued mentor to me, and I thought you should have that knowledge.”

“I consider you a friend as well, Commander.”

Spock smiled at him, which did not have the desired effect of causing Pike to smile in reciprocation, making Spock suspect he had not gotten the expression right. He put both of his hands to his face in an attempt to push his mouth into the proper configuration.

“I think I’ll be going now, Spock.”

“Must you?”

“I think so. Tell me, is Captain Kirk around?”

“He is on bridge duty.”

“I see. Well, give him my regards.”

“I shall. Spock out.”

Spock disconnected the transmission with a sigh and rested his head on his hand again. He realized he was very sleepy suddenly, despite the fact it was only midmorning. He rose and moved towards his bed, only mildly disturbed by the dizziness he felt, and lay down atop the covers. He stared at the display of ancient Vulcan weapons that adorned the wall opposite and sighed, struck suddenly by the rather suggestive shape of the club end of his _lirpa_. To him, it looked rather like the erect penis of a human male, and he wondered that he’d never noticed before. He was about to rise to go look at it more closely when there was a chime at his door.

“Come,” he called, pushing himself up on his elbows. He was delighted to see Jim standing in the doorway. “It’s you,” he said, and felt lighter suddenly, content. No, this was beyond contentment, it was stronger – happiness? 

He was distracted from his thoughts by Jim speaking. “Spock, are you all right?” He walked slowly into the room, regarding Spock carefully.

“I am. Well. Very. I am very well. Yes.” 

“You sure? Because I got a rather surprising comm from Admiral Pike.”

“Admiral Pike is an admirable man. Heh, admirable Admiral. Admirrrrble. Heh. Admirble Pike.”

“You're acting very strange.” Jim held the back of his hand against Spock’s forehead as Spock gazed up at him adoringly. 

“I have never been better.” Jim frowned. “I love you,” Spock added helpfully.

“What?” The frown left Jim’s face, and his eyes widened. Spock found the effect wholly charming.

“I am in love with you. Have I not informed you?” Jim shook his head. “I believe I meant to. At some point.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Quite sure.” 

Jim sat beside him on the bed. 

Spock flopped over, laid his head in Jim’s lap, and looked up at him through his eyelashes. “You are quite an appealing prospect for a lifemate, did you know?”

Jim’s face softened and he rested his hand atop Spock’s head. “Back at ya,” he said fondly, leaning forward to kiss Spock lightly on the lips.

“Brrp. Excuse me.” Spock pulled away, embarrassed. “That was quite rude of me.” He sat up. “Oh.” The dizziness that had been a pleasant, near-buzzing sensation earlier was now unsettling. And when he closed his eyes, the vertiginous feeling only persisted. “I believe I _am_ unwell.” 

“I’ll call Bones.” Jim went to Spock’s desk and depressed the comm button. “Kirk to Doctor McCoy.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Will you come to Spock’s quarters? The Commander is ill.”

“Be there in a jiffy, Jim.”

Spock wanted to comment on the amusing juxtaposition of the words “jiffy” and “Jim” but found it difficult to speak due to the sudden feeling that his esophagus was attempting to dispel itself from his body. He closed his eyes and an indeterminate amount of time passed, and suddenly the doctor was standing over him. “Doctor McCoy,” he greeted him, his voice low and weak-sounding to his ears.

“I came as soon as I could,” he said gravely to Jim.

“I’ve never seen him like this, it’s – it’s freaking me out, Bones,” Jim said. He glanced at Spock, a worried expression on his face. 

“Do not,” Spock said, addressing Jim’s expression and holding a hand out to it. McCoy slipped his hand around Spock’s wrist. 

“Heart rate’s up, but not alarmingly so,” McCoy said after a moment, slipping into clinical mode. “You are pale, though, Spock.” He used his fingers to pull down one of Spock’s lower eyelids. “Eyes bloodshot. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was as drunk as a skunk.”

“What?” Jim exclaimed.

“Doctor, need I remind you that Vulcans do not metabolize alcohol as humans do, and therefore cannot get drunk. Further, I have consumed no alcohol to my knowledge. Brrp. Excuse me.” Spock closed his eyes.

McCoy removed a medical tricorder and waved it over Spock. “Systems seem normal, no evidence of alcohol consumption.” 

“I should think not,” Spock replied, his eyes still closed. He frowned as another wave of vertigo assaulted him. “However, I must warn you, Jim, that perhaps Mr. Scott should perform a diagnostic on the inertial dampeners, for it appears to me that the ship is spinning out of control.” 

“You’ve got bed spins?” Jim asked.

“Affirmative,” Spock replied. “What are bed spins?”

“Bones, what the hell could be happening to him?” Jim asked, and Spock would be touched to hear the concern in his lover’s voice if only the room would cease its crazed movements.

“Aw hell, what’s that over there?” Bones said.

“What? The chocolates? I got them for Spock for Valentine’s,” Jim answered, confused.

Spock heard McCoy walk over to his desk. “Don’t you know what chocolate does to Vulcans? Just one ounce is like a shot of straight bourbon. Dammit, Jim, he’s eaten practically the whole box!”

“They were delicious,” Spock found it important to note.

“They won’t be on their way out, you addled alien! I should get a holo of this. If only I’d brought my camera.”

McCoy seemed altogether too amused by matters for Spock’s taste.

“But he’s gonna be all right, Bones, yeah?” Jim asked. 

“Aside from one hell of a hangover, there should be no lasting ill effects. Only you two idiots could not know about chocolates and Vulcans. Jeez Louise.” With that, McCoy took his leave, and Jim turned to look down on Spock, a bemused expression on his face.

“What?” Spock asked, miserably. The nausea he’d been experiencing seemed to be increasing exponentially.

“So much for the romantic dinner I had planned for the two of us tonight. I had the observation deck all booked - you can see the Crab Nebula from here and everything.”

“That sounds very appealing - I apologize for ruining your plans.”

“Don’t – we can do that any old time. The important thing is that I get to spend the evening with you, Spock. And even if I’m stuck holding your hair back while you puke, I’m pretty sure I don’t mind.”

“Vulcans do not vomit.” Spock found it necessary to point out. 

“You sure about that?” Jim asked, sitting down on the bed beside Spock again. “Because you’re looking a little green around the gills. Or, you know, _greener_.”

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
